All the Things You Don't Know
by KiwiDayDreams
Summary: Anders attends Hawke's end of the year celebration and decides that it's about time to show her that Sebastian isn't the only one with dance moves. The two begin to learn things about each other they never expected. K!Meme prompt fill.


Anders estimated that the snow had gotten about two inches deeper since the afternoon as he trudged up the steps towards Hightown. It always amazed him how quiet the snow could make everything seem, particularly in the evening when most everyone was indoors. The sun had not quite sank beyond the horizon, granting him its final bit of light on his way to the Hawke estate. He hadn't been able to get away from his clinic as soon as he'd hoped, but wasn't about to abandon the refugees simply because he had a party to get to. At any rate, he was sure Hawke would understand. There was still a few hours left before the dawning of the new year. Considering she'd only invited her closest friends to her party, he suspected he had missed little more than what he usually saw during their get-togethers at the Hanged Man except there would be more food and more drink. He smirked a little at the thought of the chaos that was going to no-doubt unleash. Hawke really didn't know what she was getting herself into sometimes.

He did his best to kick the snow clinging to his boots off at the doorstep before knocking, shivering a little when the chill caught him through the thinner parts of his worn robes while he waited. Instead of Bodahn greeting him as usual when he visited, it was Hawke flinging the door open in the middle of a bout of laughter. The sound warmed him despite the cold that had settled in his bones, and it only grew when she looked right at him and smiled.

"Anders! I was worried you might not be able to come! Get in here before you lose a limb to the cold!" He allowed her to usher him in with a hand at his back, friendly as always. The tinge of pink on her cheeks and her free flowing giggles hinted that she'd already had a few drinks. Hawke was never afraid to laugh, but she never quite _giggled_ unless she was a bit inebriated. At least, as far as he knew. He hadn't had the pleasure of finding out whether or not she was ticklish yet, though he suspected so. A small part of him hoped he might be able to find out for sure some day.

For now, though, he shrugged off his outer robes when she took them from him and let her lead him over to the fireplace. She rubbed at his numbed hands without a thought at the fact he could easily have warmed them himself with a subtle fire spell. Anders didn't remind her of this and just enjoyed the endearing gesture.

"Hey, everyone! Anders is here! Maker, your hands are like ice! You should wear gloves, you know," she rambled, rubbing his palms with her thumbs, a determined look on her face. When she cupped them together in her own and began to blow on them he thought he might actually thaw out and melt altogether. He just watched her and then laughed when she paused and looked at him, realization seeming to have struck her that he was a mage.

"Well, can't blame me for trying to be nice," she said, gradually releasing his hands, much to his inward disappointment.

"Nope. It was a nice thought," he said with a smile.

The sound of something fragile breaking in the other room made Hawke perk up and she rolled her eyes at him before heading towards it.

"Come on. We can't let them have all the fun."

He followed her into the adjoining room which she had outfitted with a refreshment table and holiday decorations. Their fellow companions were lounging in various places about the lower floor and he watched Hawke put her hands on her hips when she found Isabela and Varric standing guiltily by the broken glass in question.

"The Mabari did it," Isabela said. By the fire, the hound raised his head, cocking and ear with a confused whine.

"My apologies, Hawke. We were making a toast and Rivaini got a little excited," he said, bowing to help his hostess gather up the pieces.

"What? I'm used to tankards of ale. I do my cheers vigorously. I am a vigorous person," the pirate defended, words heavy on her tongue with the alcohol. Hawke only chuckled and shook her head, good-natured as ever as she carried the broken glass to the trash bin in the corner.

"I'm so happy to see you could make it, Anders," Merrill stepped up by the other side of the fireplace. "The weather is dreadful. I think if I didn't have these charming boots Hawke gave me, I may have lost my toes!"

"I'm guessing elves weren't made for the cold weather," Anders said, noticing that even Fenris was sporting a pair of leather boots where he leaned by the window. He vaguely wondered if Hawke had given the elf his boots as well. As if sensing a pair of eyes on him, Fenris looked up from the glass of wine he was swirling about, offering Anders a typical, accusing gaze. The mage shook his head with a visible roll of his eyes before looking back to Merrill. Even though his master was long since dead, the former slave still acted like he blamed Anders for, well, _everything_. At least he'd learned to stop making snide remarks in Hawke's presence after she'd chastised him one day in the middle of Lowtown. Oh, but that had been a _glorious_ day.

"Have you done something with your hair?" Merrill asked, head tilting like a curious little bird. "You look different. Oh, but I don't mean a bad sort of different, just different!"

"I, uh," Anders brushed his hand up over his hair, absent of its usual ponytail, smoothing the wily strands that refused to stay down. "I left my hair loose."

"Oh," Merril smiled warmly. "It looks good that way." Anders appreciated her compliment, though he knew she complimented just about everyone and everything, always ready to please. She tried so hard not to be awkward or say the wrong thing that he supposed that was how she tried to make up for it.

Hawke had vanished, he realized when he looked to find her again. It was then he heard the muffled chatter in the next room followed by the sound of the door. Aveline and Donnic had arrived.

They greeted their fellows warmly as they entered the room, dispensing handshakes, back-claps, and laughter. Anders smiled and said his 'hellos' and 'how have you beens' as he received a firm grip of the hand from both of them. He thought, with much amusement, that Aveline's handshake was much firmer than her husband's. They really did make a delightful couple, two warriors working their hardest to make Kirkwall a safe place to live. It was something he admired.

Speaking of admiring, Hawke hadn't returned with them. Discreetly, Anders wandered towards the door with his hands in his pockets, pretending to just be mingling. When he was close enough to spot Hawke's telltale finery, he stopped and glanced back to see if anyone had noticed him. Not so, they were all too busy talking. He didn't look back to see what was keeping her, the accent a clear sign of who else had arrived.

"And this is for you, Lady Hawke."

"Oh! You didn't need to bring me anything, Sebastian. Being surrounded by my dearest friends is more than enough."

"No worries, milady. It's tradition to present the gracious host or hostess with a gift on the eve of the new year."

Anders felt a twinge of jealousy pit in his stomach. Why hadn't he thought of bringing a gift? It was probably unlikely that he would be able to outdo a prince, exile or no, but something would have been better than nothing. He didn't like to feel bitter, particularly when Sebastian was actually a pretty upstanding guy if a little preachy at times. On the other hand, however, he couldn't help but feel like his territory had been invaded. It wasn't as though he _owned_ Hawke or anything ridiculous like that, but he had had eyes for her and no one else almost from the first moment they'd met. Then along came Sebastian, practically a stereotype with his shining white armor, clean shaven firm jaw, and hair that never seemed to fall a lick out of place. Anders was an apostate on the run, scruffy and almost always dirty with robes that were badly in need of repair. Not to mention the whole _spirit_ issue. Hawke had never seemed to notice the things he felt he might be lacking, but it was difficult not to do the comparisons himself.

He feigned interest in a painting on the wall when they entered, Hawke carrying what looked like a fine new piece of clothing. Anders couldn't quite tell what it was out of the corner of his eye, but he grimly supposed it was something soft and intimate.

_**CEASE YOUR MOPING. IT IS UNBECOMING.**_

Anders decided Justice had a point, and promptly stopped slouching and frowning moodily in the corner. He really needed to stop doing that.

Besides, the tone was supposed to be light and hopeful tonight. The rest of his companions seemed perfectly content to embrace this brief moment's reprieve from the usual hectic rush of their lives. For one evening the conflict between mages and templars was forgotten and Kirkwall was not quite so dreary and troubled. So Anders set his worries aside and enjoyed a drink or two with friends even though Justice nullified any affect it may have had on him.

They sat around the fire and listened to a few of Varric's favorite tales, one of which involved the Champion herself. Through his exaggerated details, Hawke smiled, laughed, sometimes snorted and waved her hand dismissively and made attempts to correct him or embellish it further. Her laughter was infectious, and more than once, Anders found himself in a bout so hard that his stomach began to hurt and eyes began to water. It was the most he had laughed in a long while and it felt incredibly good. After that, they played their usual set of cards and at some point a drinking game broke out, though Sebastian sat it out and Anders was disqualified since he had an unfair advantage over everyone else. He didn't mind, however, as he opted to help Hawke retrieve more refreshments from the kitchen.

"Here, take this," she said, handing him a tray of fresh fruit and shortcake before she bent to grab another loaf of fresh bread that Orana had baked the day before.

"You really went all out, didn't you?"

"Holidays are a big deal for me," she replied as she prepped a kettle with some tea for later. "I always love them because everyone finds the time to come together and just enjoy each other's company."

"I would visit more, if I could," he put out there. It was true and when she looked at him and smiled he felt good for having said it.

"I know everyone gets busy, especially you," she said. "You do a lot of good, Anders. You should be proud of that." He did feel a bit of pride swell in him at the comment, but refrained from letting it show too much.

"What else do you like about the holidays?" he asked, genuinely curious. He wanted to know a lot more about her, things beyond fighting and diplomacy, and this seemed like a good enough place to start.

"Dancing," she said without skipping a beat as they headed back for the party room. Now that he hadn't been expecting, but as he considered it he wondered why he hadn't. Just because Hawke could knock heads with the best of them didn't mean she wouldn't like those things, too. He often forgot that her mother had been brought up noble, so it only made sense that she may have passed on the things she'd learned to her daughters.

He'd learned a bit of the skill himself for the hell of it when he was bored at the Circle. At the time he'd thought maybe it would help catch him a pretty girl who might be swayed by his charms. Unfortunately, he'd had to exchange his thoughts of romance for those of freedom; the two just never tended to go hand in hand. It was easier to be on the run by yourself where you wouldn't endanger anyone you cared about. But he was starting to feel melancholy with these memories, so he ditched them for more colorful pictures of what Hawke must have looked like dancing as a child with her siblings. It brought a smile to his face.

"We need to liven this party up! Give us a tune, Varric!" Isabela said, raising her fist in the air. Hawke turned once she had set the food down on the table and Anders followed suit, seeing that the dwarf had found Hawke's lute and was strumming a few chords on it. He was a man of many talents and this one seemed particularly fitting. Isabela strode over to Merrill, toting the small elf towards the steps and on to the spacious upper floor where Donnic had already began to share a dance with Aveline.

As the rest of the crew headed up, Anders eyed Hawke's hand and tried to muster up the courage to ask her out on the floor. Much to his dismay, she zeroed in on Sebastian instead who accepted her request wholeheartedly. Who wouldn't, after all? Isabela seemed intent on dancing with everyone, even managing to drag Fenris out despite his attempt at being a wallflower. Anders blessed Merrill's heart when she asked him to join her. At least he wasn't the awkward one out.

Merrill wasn't a bad dancer, though the stark contrast in their height must have made for an interesting picture. Anders bent down to her eye level at times and did a ridiculous jig that had her pressing her dainty little hands to her mouth to muffle the giggles. When Isabela stepped in, her method of dancing was pretty much the same as everything else she did, sly and filled with innuendo, which he may have appreciated at any other point and time in his life. Not now, though, not when he had Hawke on his mind. Still, he hated to be a stick in the mud and Isabela was never the type to take anything serious, so he let his old charm fly. She laughed in amusement and mentioned something about him showing this side more often before slipping away to have another drink.

Taking the time for a breather, he sat down by Varric and enjoyed the dwarf's jovial tune. He did his best not to be distracted by Sebastian and Hawke's forms twirling about the room in nearly perfect harmony. The ex-prince was exceptionally light on his feet and half the time it almost appeared as though they were floating. Hawke seemed to be having the time of her life, especially when they moved into a complex quick step that would have left lesser dancers with their legs in a tangle. Anders had to admit it was impressive, but he subconsciously analyzed Sebastian's footwork for any sign of mistake. He must have been making a face, because once Varric stopped strumming, he elbowed Anders in the side gently.

"Looking a little troubled there, Blondie. You okay?"

"I'm fine," Anders lied. It had been _perfect_, bloody _perfect_. Hawke returned Sebastian's polite bow and then glanced up at the sound of a commotion outside.

"What time is it?"

"Just about time for the gathering in the square, I think," Aveline said. "As I understand it there was supposed to be live music and a light show."

"A light show?" Merrill asked.

"Yes, kitten. It's the one night mages are allowed to use magic freely, to an extent. They make beautiful colors dance in the sky," Isabela said, fluttering her fingertips about as everyone began to descend the stairs and head for the main hall. Anders straggled on behind, disappointed he hadn't gotten his chance to sweep Hawke off her feet. He took his stride a little faster to pass Sebastian and catch up to Hawke as she and the others headed out the front door to be greeted with the flickering of vibrant colors overhead. Merrill made a delighted sound as Isabela grasped her hand and tugged her along. "Let's find a good seat!"

The center of the activities had been set up in the middle of Kirkwall where Hightown and Lowtown met, sure to be a treat no matter your social standing. From the Hawke estate, Anders could see men he knew were templars enjoying the magic just as much as the common people. There was no sign of Meredith, but he supposed she was skulking at the hold and cursing the holiday. Lucky for everyone else, he thought. As they neared the top of the steps leading towards Lowtown, he stopped.

"Hawke?" he called and she turned, their companions heading on without her. The music below swelled with a vibrant and sweet tone, giving him courage for what he was planning. He held out his hand to her, beckoning with a couple fingers. She tilted her head with that curious glint in her eye that often reminded him of a playful kitten, not sure what they were getting into but entirely willing to leap in anyway. She looked between him and his hand questioningly, and he said nothing but just stood there, hoping she would read him like she always seemed to be able to do.

A slim brow raised as she lifted her hand and he couldn't stop the smile quirking at the corners of his lips as she placed her palm against his. Once he had a hold of her he turned her once and brought her to face him. Hawke's feet moved smoothly, responding instinctively, though the expression of her face told she hadn't been expecting that.

The beat of the music below had been just what he'd been looking for, and he whirled her out again to before stepping swiftly around behind her and wrapping both their arms about her front.

"Might you care for one more dance, Champion?" he asked, feeling her breathe a sigh with how close they were to each other.

Truthfully, it was the closest they had ever been, and he wondered if, maybe, he was overstepping his bounds. Hawke had not yet pulled away so he took it as a good sign and twirled her around, flurrying the fine snow at their feet until she faced him. One of his hands found her shoulder blade while the other gently outstretched their clasped hands. His eyes met hers to see if she was game and, given the curious twinkle in her eye, he could tell she was. The waltz came easy as if he'd only done it yesterday and Hawke fell right into step with him. It was the very same thing she had done with Sebastian just moments before so he wasn't surprised at her natural grace. But it would just not do to mimic prince charming, oh no. Too long had he waited to be the leading man in his own life and it was time to remedy that.

Every now and again he added a little skip to their step, releasing Hawke just enough to pull her along in a playful line with a perfectly simultaneous swing of their feet. When they moved to sway to the other side, he saw her lose her footing a little on the icy slick of the stone. In one swift, beautiful motion even he hadn't expected, he caught her and she laughed. It was the most warming thing he'd ever heard, and even as the breeze caught up and a dusting of snow began to fall, he didn't feel an inch of it. Something childish arose in Anders then, and he kicked up away from her, jostling more snow into the air, delighted when she followed with the same eager bounce in her step towards him. They played like this for a few precious beats, purposefully shuffling the snow up in each other's direction and laughing breathy fog into the chill of the air.

He closed the distance between them, lifting her up at the waist and turning before setting her down and taking her into an embrace that she didn't hesitate to return. While they continued to move through the wintery air, he let himself believe her enthusiasm in his arms wasn't merely because of the dance.

The world became a dizzying and wondrous blur when they moved around each other, hip to hip and hands at their backs guiding each other along. Every time he glimpsed her face she was smiling and with every second he fell ever more in love with her. She was relentlessly charming normally, but then, with the snow catching in her dark hair and her cheeks and lips rosy with heat in the cold, she couldn't have been more radiant. He ached for her something fierce then, and pulled her close, slowing the exhilarating energy of their dance. His forehead met hers, hands and body still gently moving her, fearing that if the dance stopped, it all would.

"I didn't know you could dance," she said, and he was close enough to feel her breath in stark contrast to the cold on his cheeks.

"Don't suppose it's something one expects out of a run-away apostate," he said, trying to make it a joke as he dared to press his scruffy jaw to her cheek. He must have failed at it, because she responded soft and soothing.

"No one has time to learn these things anymore, Anders. Yes, I am surprised you know, but I admit... I love surprises...and you a very good."

"Am I?" he asked, pulling back and cocking a brow in a way that made her smirk. Feeling a little more confident, he slowly bent her back, only slightly distracted at how it caused her hips to press to his as she rounded and came back up.

"Ooo. That was a good one," she said.

"You said you liked surprises."

"And you are full of them," she said, bringing her arms up about his shoulders and following his simple motions closely, barely allowing any space between them. One of her hands pulled back to splay its fingers over his cheek and jaw. "What else don't I know about you?"

Perhaps he had gone into shock from the cold because he'd become oblivious to it. Maybe he'd been going more and more crazy all these years and had come to the point where he just didn't care anymore. Whatever the reason, he curved her into the crook of one of his arms, bending at one knee and laying her against his thigh with the other hand at her knee to steady her. She looked up at him with the most soulful eyes he'd ever seen, patient and, dare he think, yearning.

"I am...madly and...hopelessly in love with you, Hawke."

For a beat the world stopped, snow falling silent to the blanket of white beneath them. Anders wasn't sure if the music had truly ceased or if it was just his heart pounding in his ears that was drowning it out. At some point they had risen back to their feet, though his arm remained wrapped about her while his fingers played absently with the ends of her hair. Hawke's palm had come to rest at his chest, right over the desperate pulse of his heart. _All for you,_ he wanted to tell her, but the words fell numb on his tongue. The snowflakes had gotten larger in the last few moments and as one drifted own and melted against Hawke's nose, he felt himself give a breathy chuckle and reached up to wipe the moisture away with the edge of his sleeve.

"Why 'hopeless'?" He almost might not have heard her she was so quiet, except for their proximity.

"Pardon?"

"You said you were 'hopelessly' in love."

"I also said 'madly', but that doesn't seem to bother you."

"I always thought that you had to be a little mindless to fall in love," she said, winsome as her fingers brushed the fabric of his tunic.

"Then I am an utter lunatic," he said. It wouldn't have been the first time he thought so, but this particular brand of crazy he could get used to.

"But, again... You said hopeless."

"To be honest...," he said, brushing a bit of the snow off the top of her head. "I never expected much to come of it."

"Do you really believe that?" His eyes darted away from hers before tentatively returning.

"I'm not sure anymore. I don't let myself dream too wildly these days, Hawke, lest fate decides to knock the sense back into me again by stealing them away." Hawke chuckled, stepping back from him but easing her hand into his, pulling him around to head back for the estate.

"I don't believe that for a second. No one but a dreamer could have done what you just did." He followed her without hesitation, gently squeezing her hand and sighing when she squeezed back. Anders wondered what she was thinking, why they were going back alone to her mansion. If he really thought he'd lost his ability to dream, she was quickly igniting it again just by reaching out to him like this. The minute she'd walked into his clinic willing to help him with no second thought, a spark flared in him; a feeling he'd long missed.

Just short of the front step, he watched Hawke pad cautiously about the stone, her feet skidding over invisible patches of ice that had formed. She was doing alright for the most part, but as soon as she started reeling backwards he moved to catch her, hitting the very same patch and sending them both to the ground, upsetting the snow in a dramatic shower of wintery fluff.

Hawke turned after Anders had cushioned her fall, crawling over him with concern.

"Maker, are you okay?" she asked, checking him for any sign of ailment. He grunted and pressed up on his elbows, already feeling the snow melting cold and sobering into his clothes.

"Yeah. I think the snow caught most the impact."

"I'm so sorry," she said, muffling a laugh at how the snow caked itself atop his head and clung to his hair.

"Amused, are you?" he said, grasping a small bit of snow and flicking it at her. She gave a yelp and blocked herself, giving him a playful shove before attempting to get to her feet once again. This time they managed to reach the door step unscathed, taking a moment to dust the snow off each other and pausing only to share a gaze now and then. Once inside, Anders shivered and rubbed his arms.

"Your clothes are soaked," Hawke realized, tugging him over to the hearth before running off again. She soon returned with a plush looking blanket, wrapping it about his shoulders. He just stood silent, watching the firelight dance over her features.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said and she glanced up from tucking the blanket around him. "You get this determined look on your face sometimes... You scrunch up your nose a little...and your eyebrows do this sweet little curve..." He reached out from beneath the blanket to trace the fine line of hair. Hawke's lips parted a little and her breath came short, whether from his words or the cold of his fingers he wasn't sure.

No matter what it was, she tugged him over and pulled him to sit in front of the fireplace. For a second he thought she was going to leave him there, but she rounded and settled down beside him, pulling at her boots and shucking them aside before turning to work at unlacing his. When they came away, the numbness in his toes began to subside with the heat of the fire.

He couldn't stop looking at her as she tended to him, beautiful daydreams in his head of what it would be like to return the favor every day of his life. What would it be like to wake up each morning and help her around the estate or go to the market with her? He realized these things might have sounded ridiculous considering that she had servants who did most of these things while she was out slicing her way through bandits, but he couldn't help but entertain the thoughts anyway.

"Take off your shirt." Her words jolted him enough to bring him crashing back into reality. Suddenly very conscious of himself, he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"Why?"

"So I can hang it by the fire and let it dry. It can't be very comfortable for you. Keep the blanket, but give me your shirt." Well, at the very least she wasn't asking for _everything_. His face flared with heat at the idea, but he quickly concentrated to prevent it from becoming too obvious. It was the fire, that was all, yes, just the fire, and not the fact this lovely woman had just asked him to start stripping.

Her logic was sound and though he was warming up, his tunic was still soggy and it wasn't exactly pleasant. Reluctantly shrugging off the blanket, he reached down and peeled the thin fabric away from himself, balling it up and settling it into Hawke's open hands before slipping back under the covers. She gave him an amused look before rising to retrieve a chair to lay the shirt on. Anders rubbed his arms inside the blanket. They weren't big and bulky things like templars had, nor tightly toned with muscle like the elves. Beneath all his witticisms and charms, Anders considered himself fairly average. He'd never given it much thought, not until now when there was a chance of her seeing him.

Hawke, however, didn't seem to dwell on it. She must have ducked into the kitchen after setting his shirt up to dry, because she sat back down with two cups of tea. Anders gladly wrapped his hands about the warmth when she offered it to him.

"I always thought you had beautiful eyes." Anders about choked on his tea, but managed not to sputter it everywhere by gulping thickly. Hawke had been looking at him, but averted her gaze when he returned it. "I thought...it's a shame they always look so sad, because when you smiled... It was like something had finally gone right with the world." The blush was on full force now, absolutely no stopping it. When Hawke glanced at him and saw the look on his face she smiled crookedly. "Well, you admitted something to me, so I thought it was only fair."

"I had no idea..."

"I had no idea you could dance, either." She set her tea carefully aside and scooted over the floor towards him, grasping one end of the blanket and pulling it around herself as she sidled into him. Anders held his breath for a few brief pauses until she settled, leaning back into him and holding the blanket closed about them both. For the first time since be had begun practicing magic, he was unsure of what to do with his hands. Hawke, as always, seemed to know exactly what to do and she took hold of them, wrapping his arms around her as she began rubbing the remaining chill from his fingers.

The fluttering in Anders' stomach and heart slowly quieted, soothed by the warmth of the woman leaning against him and her gentle touch. She laid her head back against his shoulder, face turned slightly to the right to watch the fire. Anders thought it strange how this could seem so wonderfully familiar even though they'd never done it before. It may have been that in itself that allowed him to press his face to her exposed neck, arms curling about her waist without any concern. Hawke's fingertips found his rough jaw and stroked it lightly.

"Tell me more about you... All the things I don't know."

Anders didn't know where to begin. There was a great deal he had never told anyone, especially since his fusion with Justice. It tended to happen when you were afraid of becoming close to anyone. As a mage it just seemed like the less everyone knew about you, the better. Every little detail would give people that much more power over you. It was the reason he'd kept Hawke at such a distance for so long no matter how hard she'd tried to get him to open up. She never gave up on him, though, and as he sat with her in his arms now he wanted to tell her everything there was to tell. She helped him along by asking questions, very simple ones; what was his favorite color, his favorite food? It seemed she would never run out of things to ask about, but Anders was itching to know more about _her_. She was steadfast and fearless; a friend to rival all friends, but he knew there was so much more beneath all that.

"Enough about me. Let's talk about you before I bore you to death."

"You assume that I'm more interesting?"

"I know you are. When did you learn to dance?"

"Hm," Hawke thought, snuggling down in the blanket further. "When I was about ten, I think. Bethany and I came home for supper one day and found my mother and father dancing in the kitchen. I don't think they noticed us there at first. They kind of looked like they were in their own little world. I remember Bethany and I begging father to dance with us, too. Bethany especially. She really was the type who would have loved those fancy Orlesian dresses and parties."

"Not you, though?"

"Naw," she said, lolling her head to the side. "I always enjoyed swords more than pretty shoes. Maybe if I'd had a partner as good as you I might have changed my mind." She paused in thought. "Though, I might have just punched you."

Anders laughed. "Maker, why?"

"Because you were a boy, and I liked you."

"Then you must have _loved_ the Arishok." Hawke elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to cause a dull ache. He brought his hand up and rubbed the tender spot as she turned to smirk at him. "Ow. I asked for that, didn't I?"

"Yes," Hawke said, rounding to sit in her knees in front of him before punching him in the arm.

"Mercy! I call mercy!" Anders chuckled, lifting his hands. "What was that one for?" He only caught the mischievous glint in her eye for a second before he realized she'd leaned in and kissed him. His entire body may as well have gone numb because he couldn't seem to feel anything but her mouth pressed gently against his. Eventually, he became aware of the tingle in his fingers and the way his heart beat a triumphant rhythm in his chest. At some point his hands had come to her face, burying his fingers in her hair.

When she parted from him he about panicked, afraid to let the moment stop for fear of losing everything. She didn't move far, a scant few inches, allowing his hands to remain at her cheeks while she looked up at him and claimed her breath.

"Anders...," he watched her lips murmur. Maker, he could listen to her say his name all night. "Ask me..." Though his scattered mind should have whirled at the vague request, and he should have been a great deal more nervous, he didn't hesitate or need to think of what she meant. He just knew.

"Would you stay with me, love? Share a dance with me every night? Let me hold you like this always?" He nudged his nose against hers and closed his eyes. "Could you love me as I love you?"

He felt her smile against him as she nudged her forehead back against his. "Always." Anders caught himself giving a laugh that was somewhere between disbelief and exhilarated. He kissed her again, over and over, brushing the hair away from her face and reveling in the warmth of her. Hawke was in his lap then, never breaking the kisses until she had coaxed him to follow her to the floor. As she lay beneath him with the blanket draped lazily over them both, she murmured:

"Would you share one more dance with me, love?"

Anders was sure he had a witty comeback for that one, but damn it all if he could think of it just then. He was far too preoccupied lavishing her with kisses, first at her mouth and then gradually down along her jaw and neck, slow and soft. Hawke's hands played about his lean shoulders, tracing the muscle there and running down his arms as they held him over her. He heard her breathe a contented sigh accented with desperate whimpers when he found a particularly sensitive spot on her shoulder. When her fingers drifted away from his arms and over his sides, he squirmed and made a light grunt in his throat. Hawke continued to explore the spot just below his ribs, occasionally scratching her nails over it and Anders broke from her lips as a laugh escaped him.

"Uh oh," she said, a completely devious expression on her face. "I think I've discovered something else I didn't know."

"Now, Hawke. Let's not be -" He was interrupted by his own laughter again when she tickled him furiously. Anders drove his hands down against hers, trying to cease the relentless attack, and eventually grasped her wrists in his hands, holding them over her head. "Got you!" Hawke did not appear distressed in the slightest even as he declared his victory. Instead, she simply smiled and clamped her legs around his hips, so tight that for a moment he could feel the flex of her muscles against him as the skirt of her finery rode up. With one swift movement she rolled and topped him, loosing her hands from his grip and waggling her fingers at him in a playful threat. She was a tricky one, but he could play this game, too.

Before she could put her fingers to work again, Anders sat up and caught her in his arms, pressing his mouth to hers again, suddenly realizing the ache of how much he missed it in its short absence from his. His hands moved quickly to her exposed thighs, kneading the firm muscles there and loving the heat of her soft flesh. Hawke's body relaxed instantly against his touch, and when her back arched, pressing her against him, he knew that he was past the point of no return.

Anders was lost in her. He always had been, but now he was feeling it right down to his core, a dizzying storm of want and need building in him. His hands ventured places he only dreamed of during lonely nights at the clinic and none of it compared to the real thing. His hands pressed firm against her rear beneath the skirt, pulling her against him and making a pitiful noise in his throat as she instinctively ground against him. Maker, could she have wanted this as long as he had? Had she thought of him at night alone in her plush bed?

"Hawke?" he murmured as she began to knead at his shoulders, rocking her hips in a gentle rhythm to his.

"Yes...?" It didn't sound like a response at first so much as a whined plea.

"Have you thought of dancing with me before?" he asked between kisses at her neck, smirking a little.

"Mmhmm," she hummed. One of his hands roamed up, backs of his fingers brushing her collar bone before delving into the robe and pushing it off her shoulder.

"Like this...?"

"Mmmm, yes," she cooed as she began to toy with the laces of his trousers. Anders shifted a little beneath her and pressed his palm up to feel the weight of one of her breasts. "Have you...with me?"

"Many times, love" he admitted with a hint of a growl rising in his throat when she paused her work with his trousers to palm and stroke him through the fabric. Anders was starting to feel a little frantic, his groin aching beneath the pressure. He was just about to finish undoing the ties but Hawke preempted him and in one careful yet swift motion, coaxed his length into the open air. The mage gave a relieved and shuddering sigh that Hawke caught in her mouth as she stood up on her knees and leaned over him for another kiss.

His hands found hers as they hooked her smalls and pulled them down her legs, moving just enough to do away with them in some corner. Briefly, Anders thought of what would happen the next day should she forget about them. Would she be embarrassed if Bodahn or Orana discovered them? He grinned at the perfectly naughty idea, but the feeling of the moist heat brushing against his stiff flesh shocked him back to the situation at hand. He glanced up at her and found her gazing at him with a look so endearing that it almost broke his heart. While her fingers brushed the wayward strands of his hair around his ears and her body curved and grew slick to his touch, it was her eyes that about did him in.

"I love you," he said before he realized he'd spoken. "By the gods, I love you more than anything. More than life... More than _cats_." Hawke giggled at that and brushed her lips to his whisper light.

"I love you, too, you silly mage." She encompassed him then, a slow and agonizingly pleasurable sensation that had him giving small gasps against her mouth with every inch. Now he knew what to do with his hands, but the trouble was that there were far too many places he wanted them to be at the same time. So he let them wander freely, squeezing in the plush places and gently caressing the sensitive ones. Hawke moved in a graceful rhythm against him and he felt a fascination as he watched her. How it was possible that someone this beautiful could exist in Kirkwall, be in his arms and making love to him, all while returning his affections was beyond him. Miracles were too few in Thedas these days, and Anders wasn't about to question this one.

His senses on overload, he knew he couldn't last much longer, especially not with how she was starting to clench herself around him. With a small nudge to her front to encourage her to allow his hand between them, he delved his fingers into the wetness of her folds, moaning as the feeling of how moist she was only drew him closer to the end. Finding the bundle of nerves drowning in her slick, he began to rub in concentrated circles, occasionally letting the tiniest bit of electricity slip into his fingertips to enhance the feeling. Hawke jumped at first, caught his eyes in surprise, and grinned.

"Learned another thing," she panted as he repeated the electric vibration, earning him a delighted laugh and moan. The sounds she made just for him; it was all he needed to finally find his climax, though he worked vigorously to pull her along with him. She gasped, about clawing his bare shoulders with her nails as she came, muscles spasming around him as he finished his own ride.

Spent, she flopped like a rag doll against him, arms languidly wrapped about his neck. Anders felt his world spin and embraced her, slowly letting himself loll back onto the floor with her. The fire had begun to dim and it made him wonder just how long they had been there together. Was the celebration outside over? Would their companions come crashing in the door at any moment? As he thought of these things, he realized he really didn't care, and simply pulled the blanket up over them to, at the very least, maintain Hawke's dignity. She murmured against him, resting her head and hands on his chest. He ducked his hands beneath the blanket and stroked her back soothingly.

"I have to apologize," he said, voice throaty in something between sleepiness and afterglow.

"Whatever for?" Hawke asked lazily.

"For making you miss the gathering." He felt her chuckle against him.

"Bah. It was worth it."

"You say that now, but wait until the others come bursting in here and find us like this."

"They won't," she said, finally turning her head and resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him. He cocked a curious brow at her. "Not that I'd care if they did."

"What do you mean?"

"I told them that I'd be spending some time with you." Anders blinked once, then twice, clearly looking puzzled as her smile widened. "Well, you know. It's tradition that you should spend time with the one you love on the eve of the new year. That guarantees you'll be together for years to come."

"Wait, wait. Are you telling me you _planned_ this?" He couldn't help his incredulous tone.

"This? No. I had planned to tell you that I had feelings for you. The dance...and all _this_? Your doing." Anders continued to gawk at her in disbelief, only seeming to heighten her amusement. He'd had nothing to fear all along, and he just didn't know how to handle that. Anders decided once more that it was best not to question his good fortune because, well, _look where it got him_. "I do have to say, falling in the snow so you'd have an excuse to take off your shirt was pretty slick."

"What? Excuse me, sweetheart, but you were the one who slipped and about fell face-first into the snow."

"Did I, Anders? Did I, really?"

"By the gods, really, Hawke?"

She gave him a smile that wrinkled up her nose in that way he'd come to adore so much and simply lay her head back down on his chest. He chuckled, sliding his hand beneath her robe to knead her back then. Within a few minutes, as Hawke's body began to go slack against him, he realized she must have been dozing. Anders wasn't sure if he was going to be able to sleep at all given what that had happened that night. He didn't mind, though, and just kept looking at her and planting the occasional kiss on her head. Closing his eyes, he murmured quietly to himself.

"Guess I learned something new about you, too. Crafty woman."

-FIN-


End file.
